Chapter 3|Human encyclopaedia

"I'm hungry," Jasmine whined for about the millionth time.

"Hi hungry, I'm Hazel," I answered sarcastically, using the most classic dad joke of all time.  It was ten in the morning on a Saturday, Jasmine was lucky that I had even gathered enough motivation to get out of bed. She'd had breakfast about an hour prior to this conversation and she was still hungry.

"You're not funny," she yelled, stomping her feet impatiently.

"Nope, I'm Hazel," I replied, chuckling at a text Tara sent me.

"I'll tell mom on you," she threatened.

I rolled my eyes.  What a threat.

"Oooh, I'm shaking in my pajamas."

"Did you know that the plural for platypus is platypi?" She asked suddenly.

"What? Why would I car-" I began but she cut me off.

"Did you know that the Northern leopard frog swallows its prey using its eyes? There is a rare genetic condition called methemoglobinemia that causes the skin to turn blue. There is a glacier in Antarctica that regularly pours out red liquid making it seem like the ice is bleeding. The Eiffel Tower leans slightly away from the sun. Porcupines can float in water. Sea otters hold hands when they're sleeping so they don't drift away from each other. French fries were invented in Belgium. Rats can tell the difference betwe-"

"I'll make you food, I'll make you food," I said, putting out a hand so she would stop.

A smug look appeared on her face.

"Human encyclopaedia," I muttered as I wandered into the kitchen.

Jasmine followed me into the kitchen, observing me as I scrounged through the cupboards. I pulled out a strawberry pop tart and passed it to her.

She scrunched up her nose in disgust. "I don't want this."

"Well if you're as hungry as you say you are, you'll die of starvation."

"Actually you can last about a week without food, but only two days without water," she recited.

I stared at her blankly. "Where do you get all this useless information from?"

"My brain, duh," she replied, skipping into the living room, leaving the pop tart looking lonely on the counter.

Fine then, I thought, I'll eat it.

And I did.

~*~*~

Jasmine wanted to bake cookies.

Now usually I wouldn't have a problem with baking, I'm actually quite a good cook. But when you add Jasmine into the equation it's never going to end well. Jasmine and baking are two words that should never be seen in the same sentence. Like ever.

It's like mentos and Coke.  Explosive.

You see last time I baked with Jasmine she decided that our cake needed a little extra zing. So she tipped half a bottle of Tabasco sauce into the batter, and of course because it was a chocolate cake the colour didn't change. When the cake was finally cooked, she made me try a piece before her. Needless to say it didn't end well.

So you can see why I'd be a little hesitant to let her anywhere near the kitchen.

"Please, please, please, please, please, please, please-"

Don't cave, Hazel, be strong, I thought.

"Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please-"

This continued for a solid two minutes.  I had to hand it to her, she had perseverance.

"Fine!" I yelled, not being able to handle much more of her voice. "Just please stop talking."

"Yes!" She cheered, racing into the kitchen.

I sighed.  What had I gotten myself into?

~*~*~*~

1 hour later

*please read this in the voice off Spongebob.*

I felt something powdery puff onto the side of my face.

slowly turning I saw Jasmine armed with a bag of flour, an evil grin spreading across her already demonic face.

"What was that for?" I asked calmly.

"I was testing your reflexes. They aren't very good."

I glared, but continued to make the cookie dough. I was paranoid because I thought that Jasmine would try to poison the cookies so I was guarding that mixing bowl the same way I guard my food.

The sound of Jasmine's bare feet pattering on the tiles behind me was unnerving, but the real worry was the sound of the fridge opening. All sorts of disgusting health foods were contained in there, due to moms latest detox diet craze.

It was just nasty, the stuff she was keeping in there would have a better use as people repellant.  Nobody would dear to go near you if they saw you eating something that looked like pureed organs. That was a really interesting mental image.  Remind me to never think about that again.

Caught up in my own thoughts, as usual, I didn't notice that Jasmine was standing a little too close for comfort. A cold liquid was poured on my head. I yelped and jumped back, forgetting to let go of the mixing bowl, which fell helplessly from the countertop, spilling half mixed cookie dough on the floor.

Green liquid dripped down my forehead and back, I shivered at the temperature of the stuff. It smelled suspiciously like spinach. Ew.

Muffled giggles could be heard behind me and I turned to see an almost hysterical Jasmine. One hand covered her mouth, although that didn't stop a few high pitched giggles from escaping, in the other hand was a Tupperware container with the words 'spinach and broccoli smoothie' written on the side in black marker.

I gave her the death glare and she stopped laughing, her eyes widening. The death glare was different from my normal glare because I did that all the time. I had perfected my death glare.

The death glare meant 'Run', and that's what she did.

She shoved past me and dashed into the dining room.

I armed myself with a carton of eggs and stealthily crept towards the dining room. I knew there was only one exit and it was the door I would use an an entry so she had no escape route.

I peeped my head around the door frame, Jasmine was hiding in the most well known hiding spot ever. Under the table.

"I can see you," I stated.

She crawled out from under the table, but positioned herself so that she was as far away from me as she could get.

I grabbed an egg. "Now lets see who has crap reflexes," I said.

I drew my arm back and launched the egg. It flew straight over her head, splattering the family portrait behind her with yellow goo.

"Ooh you're in trouble now," she sung happily, pleased at my mistake.

She took my moment of hesitation to make a quick escape, speeding past me into the kitchen once more. She yanked open the fridge again, carefully selecting the most disgusting looking substance she could find. It was bright red and the consistency of scrambled eggs. She took a handful and raised an eyebrow, challenging me. I grabbed another egg and threw it. This time it made a satisfying splat sound as it connected with her cheek.

I sounded like it hurt, but I mean, she did start this.  Don't start something if you can't finish it.

I edged closer to the kitchen, watching as she scrubbed at her cheek with her spare hand, only making it worse than it already was. She looked at me accusingly, before letting the handful of red glop fly. It hit me in the stomach, leaving a smear on my shirt. That was going to stain.

She snickered and while she was distracted I launched another egg. It burst on top of her head, covering her shiny blonde hair in slime. She gasped, trying to swipe the egg out of her hair but her hand was still coated in the red scrambled eggs. Bullseye.

Jasmine angrily grabbed the abandoned bag of flour and ran at me, she abruptly stopped about a foot away from me, but the flour didn't get the memo. It poured out of the bag in clouds, coating me and the floor in a fine, white dust.

Fine, white dust...This has nothing to do with drugs by the way.  This sentence could definitely be taken the wrong way without context.

Jasmine looked at me nervously. "Truce?"

"No," I said, grabbing the milk from the counter. "Now its a truce," I poured it on her head.

She squealed as the cold milk dripped down her back.

Ha ha.

There was a harsh knock on the door. I quickly tried to swipe some of the flour from my face, but combined with the spinach and broccoli smoothie it just made a green glue.

I gave up and wandered to the door, hoping like hell it was Tara. I knew I was kidding myself though because Tara never knocked, she just strutted in like she owned the place.

I twisted the doorknob and yanked the door open to reveal none other than my lovely neighbours Ryan and Archie.

"Archie wanted to...." the words died on Ryan's lips as he saw the state of me.

His lips quirked into an amused smile.

"You look.."

"Like a yeti? Yes I know," I said completing his sentence.

Why did he have to have such terrible timing?

"I was going to say different. The new hairstyle is definitely working for you," he said, gesturing to my stringy hair which was dusted with specks of flour and clumps of spinach.

My cheeks tinted red, although I doubt he could see through the flour on my face.

"Are you just here to insult me or do you actually want something?" I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

He chuckled. "Archie wanted to invite you out for ice cream with us, but you obviously can't."

"You can still come, right?" Archie asked, giving me the puppy dog eyes.

I mentally groaned. Can't resist those eyes.

"Fi-"

I was interrupted by a victory dance, a whoop from Archie. Then he ran past me and into my house. Ryan followed his little brother, grinning at me on the way past.

"Come on in then," I muttered, closing the door.

"You had fun in here didn't you?" Ryan queried, observing the mess in the kitchen as I walked back into the room.

"If that's what you wanna call it," I replied, swiping my hand along the counter in a half hearted attempt to clear the mess.  I don't even know what it was, either way, it didn't smell too flash.

Jasmine must've thought it was a good idea to sit down in the spilt milk and other unknown substances on the floor and slide around in them.

"Jasmine, go and take a shower," I told her.

"Why?" She asked, looking at Ryan, who she seemed to remember from from the trip we took into a random basement.

"Because you stink," I stated bluntly.

"What? No I don't," she disagreed, but she discreetly lifted an arm to her nose.

"Trust me, you do. I can smell you from here."

"Fine," she said, running out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"That was easier than I thought," I said to myself.

"How did this happen?" Ryan said, gesturing to the mess. It wasn't just in one spot, it was literally everywhere.  There was milk on the floor, cookie dough splattered down the cabinets, eggs everywhere, flour coating every possible surface that there was to settle on, as well as the stinking smell of green vegetables.

"I let Jasmine in the kitchen. Bad move," I replied, dusting some of the flour off my sweatpants.

I sighed and walked into the kitchen. I started sweeping the flour into one big pile on the floor. To my surprise Ryan took off his socks and shoes, obviously not wanting to get them covered in baking ingredients, and picked up a cloth. He started wiping the counter so it was clean again.

"You don't have to help you know," I said.

What was he even doing in my house?

"Just think of it as returning a favour."

I watched as he cleaned the counter. He was wearing a tight v neck which showed off his muscled abdomen and he was facing away from me which meant I could ogle at his back all I wanted. Every time his arms moved the muscles in his back and shoulders tensed, and let me tell you, that was something that every girl wanted to see. Peeping out from the sleeve of his shirt was a swirl that was only just visible. A tattoo.

"Are you done checking me out?" He asked without turning around.

How the hell did he know I was staring?

"Pfft, don't be ridiculous I was-"

"So you weren't done checking me out?" He said, turning to look at me, seemingly enjoying my embarrassment.

"I was not checking you out. I was just....making sure you were cleaning right," I lied unconvincingly. Lying never was my strong point.

"Whatever you say sunshine," he chided, turning back around.

I went back to my sweeping, as confused as ever.

Sunshine? what the hell was that about?

~*~*~

Sorry, really short chapter. It was kind of a filler and I had no idea what to write.

Jasmine to the side.

Until next time.